The Colour of Your Eyes
by BookRookie12
Summary: In a world where almost everyone has two eye colors - one theirs and one their soulmate's - Elizabeth Bennet is enormously happy for her sister, whose soulmate is amiable, cheerful Charles Bingley. Elizabeth's own soulmate, however, needs more than a little work... [Soulmate AU]
1. Part One

_Written for the Soulmate AU: one of your eyes matches your soulmate's eye color until you speak to each other._

* * *

 **Hello, everyone!**

 **I'm really, really sorry to those who're still hanging on me from MTMDF, but I needed a break, and PPAAOR is on hiatus until further notice. I challenged my sister and myself to make a soulmate AU on one of our OTPs. Her work will either be published on my account, marked as hers, or on her account, in which case I"ll link ya to hers.**

 **She's not done yet, though.**

 **This soulmate AU came kind of out of nowhere (and Tumblr). It contains influences from Walking Together, a Johnlock soulmate AU, and Touch, a P &P Lizzy/Darcy based on the former. That influence is in a later chapter, but I hope you enjoy this one. Hopefully you'll stick with me... because this is a multi-chapter! I meant it to be a one-shot, but it got away from me.**

 **I've been rambling long enough. Allons-y~**

 **~Alex**

* * *

Elizabeth Bennet loved the colour of her soulmate's eyes – not that she could tell which eye was hers and which her soulmate's, but her left was a soft dark brown that was almost black, and the other was a deep, deep blue, almost indigo in its intensity.

Her eldest sister, gentle Jane, had one bonny blue eye and one grey one that changed from blue to turquoise to green to true grey, studious Mary had one amber eye and one hazel eye, shy Kitty had one deep blue eye like Elizabeth's and one brown eye, and boisterous Lydia had one blue eye and one nut brown eye.

Elizabeth was hoping that at least one of them would find their soulmates at the upcoming Assembly, where the new addition to their neighbourhood, a Mr. Bingley who her mother had persuaded her father to wait upon, was to be present, along with his party. Jane was already in her twenty-second year and was not yet mated, in an age when most women met their soulmates within four or five years after coming out, and Jane had come out at sixteen.

As her mother fussed over Jane, Kitty, and Lydia, Elizabeth stared curiously at her dual eyes and tried to deduce which eye was hers. Judging by the fact that three of her sisters had one blue eye, it was probably a close enough guess that the darker eye was her soulmate's.

She studied it closer. It was a rich dark brown, like fertile soil, with streaks of black and grey twining through the brown like stone. Elizabeth quite liked that eye, despite her mother's constant bewailing of the fact that it threw off her colouring entirely – which was not false.

"What do you think, Lizzy?" a suddenly-self-conscious Kitty murmured, standing up and turning around in a cornflower dress that matched her blue eye with a brown sash that matched her brown eye.

Elizabeth smiled. It was so rare that she got such a moment with her two youngest sisters that she enjoyed every single one. "You look lovely, Kitty. Meet your soulmate in that and he will be speechless." Kitty threw her arms around her sister's neck and whispered, "I hope our soulmates are wonderful."

 _So much for that_ , Elizabeth thought. Jane had met her soulmate – and almost fainted in the process – but no one else had, and while Elizabeth was happy for her sister, she was bored.

Mr. Bingley's friend, Mr. Darcy, seemed unlikely to even have a soulmate. He was a very aloof character, and the hall was so dim in the corners he sulked as to give her no chance of ascertaining what colour his eyes were. Because there were so few gentlemen, Elizabeth sat out a few dances and amused herself with watching him until Mr. Bingley came up to press him into service.

"Come, Darcy," said he, "I must have you dance. I hate to see you standing about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better dance."

"I certainly shall not. You know how I detest it, unless I am particularly acquainted with my partner. At such an assembly as this it would be insupportable. Your sisters are engaged, and there is not another woman in the room whom it would not be a punishment to me to stand up with." His tone was haughty and cold. Elizabeth inwardly chuckled.

"I would not be as fastidious as you are for a kingdom!" Mr. Bingley looked reprimanding. "Upon my honour, I never met with so many pleasant girls in my life as I have this evening; and there are several of them you see uncommonly pretty."

"You are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room," said Mr. Darcy, looking at Jane, although, Elizabeth was pleased to note, without malice.

"Oh! She is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld!" said Bingley happily. "But there is one of her sisters sitting down just behind you, who is very pretty, and I daresay very agreeable. Do let me ask my partner to introduce you." He looked as though he wished to say something else, but did not.

"Which do you mean?" His eyes flicked open in her direction for a second – and Elizabeth could have sworn she saw a flash of deep blue, almost indigo. _Like her or Kitty_. "She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me; I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men. You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with me."

Elizabeth burst into laughter as soon as Mr. Bingley walked off, and Mr. Darcy's gaze wandered in her direction once more. She met it boldly, if with a tingle of presentiment, and was shocked to see that one of his eyes was indeed a deep indigo blue – a shade to match hers or Kitty's.

 _Oh my God, no_.

He started, and straightened, and cocked his head. His eyes fixed on hers for what seemed like years, before he turned away with obvious indifference.

 _Rude_ , Elizabeth inwardly snorted, and resolved to tell this little anecdote to Charlotte as soon as possible.

* * *

She kept running into him!

Elizabeth was ready to tear her hair out, despite the fact that Mr. Charles Bingley and Miss Jane Bennet were confirmed as a match, and had been courting for several days now. Mr. Darcy kept following her, with his indigo eye and his uncivil silence.

Their eyes had met again and again, until one evening at Lucas Lodge, she could stand his eavesdropping no longer. Charlotte had challenged her to confront him about his hanging about.

So she did. "Did you not think, Mr. Darcy, that I expressed myself uncommonly well just now, when I was teasing Colonel Forster to give us a ball at Meryton?"

"With great energy; but it is always a subject which makes a lady energetic."

Before she could come back with her ready retort, he stumbled. And despite her dislike of him, she did not wish to see him injured. "Mr. Darcy?"

His eyes went wide – his eyes – and Elizabeth felt a sort of shock as a bolt of lightning must feel like. Her heart skipped beats erratically and her gaze fixed on the man in front of her as his indigo eye faded into rich dark brown, with black and grey threaded through the iris.

It matched his right eye perfectly.

 _Please, no._

 _Anyone but him_.

She came back to herself and realised that she was leaning heavily on Charlotte while Mr. Darcy was half-sprawled rather awkwardly on the floor. He raised his eyes to hers. Rich, dark eyes, velvety and decadent. Somewhere vaguely in her mind she registered that someone was calling her, but she only responded once the spell broke and he looked away.

"Lizzy!" It was Kitty, holding her tightly but gently. "Are you alright? What happened to –? Oh." The younger girl's question died in her throat when her sister looked at her mutely.

With two indigo blue eyes.

Mr. Darcy staggered to his feet, and everybody saw that his eyes were now the same colour – and the colour matched the one eye Elizabeth Bennet had so admired on herself as a child. "What happened?" he asked thickly.

Sir William, still a bit shocked, brought him a small mirror, and he stared at his reflection, dumbfounded, blinking. "Oh, dear Lord."

These words seemed to snap Elizabeth out of her trance, and she stood on her tiptoes to get a look at the mirror. "What? Let me – oh my God." Nothing could have prepared her for what was staring back at her: one pair of dark-columbine eyes, and one pair of dark-earth eyes.

"We…" he and Elizabeth spoke at the same time, then stopped.

The same hiss – of relief, of pleasure, of shock, but from the pair of them a mix of horror and joy – escaped everyone in the immediate vicinity. " _Soulmates_."


	2. Part Two

**Here's part two! I only held back to gauge the reception of this particular fic, and since you guys seem to find it interesting, I hope this lives up!**

 **~Alex**

* * *

Mr. Darcy seemed to have lost the ability to speak after this revelation, but the first thing that came out of his floundering mouth was "Forgive me."

At this, the crowd dispersed, knowing to give the newly mated pair some time to themselves, and Kitty guided them to a corner of the room where they would be least disturbed before retreating to an alcove where she could watch them. Propriety and all that could not be ignored.

At first Elizabeth could not think what on earth he was apologising for, until the whole reason she disliked him in the first place came back to mind. "So now you apologise," she hissed, "but could not think to keep the comment to yourself before you said it? Is there no way of turning down an introduction politely?"

His dark eyebrows knit over the eyes whose colour Elizabeth had liked so much. "I had no idea you were sitting nearby."

"That excuses nothing," she pointed out. "It would still be rude even had I not heard it."

"I take it this means I am not forgiven?" His tone became much more clipped and angry. "I am unsure, Miss Elizabeth, if you are aware that I am unaccustomed to being addressed in this manner, and you will forgive me if I excuse myself, as I have already proven, in your eyes, to be so deficit in civility that I have no qualms in doing so."

Elizabeth scowled at him and tugged on his sleeve as he was leaving. "No, I will not. As you are behaving like a child, Mr. Darcy, it is only fair that you are addressed as such."

He turned and his eyes glowed with earthen fire – and Elizabeth threw back her head and stared him down, her new matched set of indigo eyes blazing. Finally he shook her off and walked away, leaving Elizabeth with a burning sensation in her left eye and the sense that she had just been rejected.

* * *

Fitzwilliam Darcy's left eye burned with a vengeance, and he blinked and wiped the smarting tears away. Elizabeth Bennet and her indigo eyes teased him, mocked him. He had treasured his deep blue/indigo eye from the day he understood what it meant. He had known the rich almost-black eye was his, because his father's eyes were that colour, and his sister had one eye that was that colour.

He had imagined a future for himself and his soulmate. And now both of them had ripped it apart within seconds of actually speaking to one another.

Without looking Fitzwilliam knew his left eye was once more deep blue.

"What a charming amusement for young people this is, Mr. Darcy! There is nothing like dancing after all. I consider it as one of the first refinements of polished society." Fitzwilliam tried not to snap at poor Sir William. He had no idea yet that something was wrong between the Darcy and the Bennet.

"Certainly, sir; and it has the advantage also of being in vogue amongst the less polished societies of the world," said Fitzwilliam, a tad acerbically. "Every savage can dance."

Sir William only smiled in response. "Your friend performs delightfully," he continued after a pause, on seeing Bingley join the group dancing to Miss Mary's Scottish air; "and I doubt not that you are an adept in the science yourself, Mr. Darcy."

"You saw me dance at Meryton, I believe, sir." Fitzwilliam spotted Miss Elizabeth in a corner of the room, watching her sisters with a worried and mortified expression, and his eye throbbed.

"Yes, indeed, and received no inconsiderable pleasure from the sight. Do you often dance at St. James's?" Why on earth would he?

"Never, sir."

"Do you not think it would be a proper compliment to the place?"

"It is a compliment which I never pay to any place if I can avoid it." Dancing was a way of celebration, and a way for people to meet and interact, regardless of whether or not they were mated. In a different world, perhaps it might be used as a way to determine partners for life, but God had already solved that problem, and dancing was simply meant as a pastime for mated and undetermined alike.

Except that far too many undetermined young ladies had tried to attract him while dancing for him to be completely comfortable with that activity.

"You have a house in town, I conclude?"

Fitzwilliam bowed in assent.

"I had once had some thought of fixing in town myself—for I am fond of superior society; but I did not feel quite certain that the air of London would agree with Lady Lucas."

Fitzwilliam nodded, looking at Sir William for the first time since the start of the conversation, and the older man's features instantly morphed into worry. "Oh dear. Has something gone wrong with you and our Miss Elizabeth?"

Inwardly Fitzwilliam cursed himself. That damned blue eye! He coughed, and shook his head. "I suppose it requires only a little of acclimatisation, Sir William."

"Ah, well," Sir William said to him, watching the dance with a twinkle in his green eyes. "Lady Lucas and I had a spot of trouble when we were matched too. Her brothers never liked me, and I had a time of it winning her father over, but in the end all that mattered was that I got her consent. It took me a while, but I swallowed my pride and tried to be more humble, and here we are."

Fitzwilliam privately thought that it was much more complicated than that, but he kept silent and tried to ignore the growing ache in the back of his head, like someone was hammering at his skull right where his black hair was growing out of. It hurt more and more with each passing second.

He grimaced when Elizabeth – oh, she was _Elizabeth_ now, was she? He scoffed at himself – caught his eye and glared at him. Sir William spotted their silent exchange and tried to be helpful. "Miss Eliza, why do you not spend a little more time with Mr. Darcy here? Go on."

Elizabeth bobbed her head politely. "I was passing through on my way to the refreshments table, Sir William. Do not imagine I came here to beg for a dance partner."

Fitzwilliam was unwilling to let this chance slip through his fingers. He wanted to compensate for his terrible manners that first night. "I would not be displeased with you as my partner, Miss Elizabeth." Technically, soulmates who were confirmed as a match were allowed to refer to each other by Christian name, but he sensed that he was not quite at that stage yet.

Her eyes jumped to him, and he saw that the mismatched brown-and-blue orbs looked confused. Then they hardened, and she straightened as she answered, "I beg your pardon, but I must be excused. I am in need of a little punch, and I daresay my sister shall not decline either, when the dance has finished."

Fitzwilliam was cut to the quick. It was like offering his hound a treat, then having it swatted away and being harshly nipped to boot. He withdrew his hand, so to speak, and fixed his mask on with the resolution that never would she find him so vulnerable again.

"You excel so much in the dance, Miss Eliza, that it is cruel to deny me the happiness of seeing you," Sir William protested, "and though this gentleman dislikes the amusement in general, he can have no objection, I am sure, to oblige us for one half-hour."

"Mr. Darcy is all politeness," said Elizabeth, smiling. Fitzwilliam scowled.

"He is, indeed; but, considering the inducement, my dear Miss Eliza, we cannot wonder at his complaisance—for who would object to such a partner?"

"I really must be excused, Sir William, Mr. Darcy. Thank you, and I hope you forgive me for this infraction on the rules of society." She sent her rejected soulmate an arch of the eyebrows as she went on her way, heaping insult on injury.

So Fitzwilliam sulked in a corner of the room, licking the wounds to his pride and watching the woman who God had destined for him dance and laugh with other men.

It became increasingly hard to focus on anything as his head throbbed and ached acutely, and there seemed to be nothing he could do to alleviate it. The ache increased along with his lack of control on his temper, and he ducked out of the room for a moment to breathe and to remember that a gentleman did not make public scenes at a ballroom.

The cold night air seemed to soothe his head somewhat, but as Fitzwilliam turned to re-enter the room, a sharp stab of pain made him cry out. His ears vaguely registered a similar cry of pain before the world swam before his eyes and the dark mist took over.


	3. Part Three

"Lizzy? Lizzy! Lizzy, are you alright?"

Elizabeth woke up to a pounding in her skull and the voices of her concerned sisters ringing in her ears. "Oh, my dear Lizzy, are you hurt?" her mother fussed, cushioning her head with a borrowed pillow.

She groaned. "My head hurts," she murmured. "The light… and the noise… hurts."

"It will be alright," Jane said gently. "We can go home early, if you feel you must rest."

"Henrietta and I can accompany her home if she must go," Uncle Phillips broke in. "Was something wrong with the matching, Lizzy? Poor Mr. Darcy dropped off suddenly at the same time you did."

She sat up abruptly to see Mr. Darcy sitting against the balcony and trying to wave off the two unmarried Bingley siblings. He was obviously in pain.

A stab of guilt struck Elizabeth. This was her soulmate and his pain was her responsibility; for all she knew, it might even be her fault. No matter how ungentlemanly he might act, it was unladylike to behave so to one's soulmate. Besides, he could not really be very bad; he was the man designated by God to be the love of her life, after all. She stood up, another wave of dizziness and agony nearly throwing her off balance once more, and slowly made her way over to the balcony.

"It appears to be quite a difficult hurdle he have built for ourselves, Miss Elizabeth," Mr. Darcy said weakly, a faint smirk tugging at one corner of his lips. He had been helped into a chair that rested squarely against the wall.

"Why do you insist on attaching a 'Miss' before my name, Mr. Darcy?" she asked with a hint of her usual archness. "We are soulmates, after all."

Then it hit her like a racehorse. She had _no idea_ what his first name was. "I beg your pardon, but… what is your Christian name, for fairness' sake?"

Mr. Darcy chuckled. "It is quite a mouthful, I should tell you. Most of my cousins simply call me Fitz, for saddling me with the name Fitzwilliam is a decision I am not sure I shall ever be able to forgive my parents for."

Elizabeth laughed at his attempt at levity, though she was momentarily stunned by the obvious connection in his name. "You may be congratulated, my dear Mr. Darcy, for your brave sally."

"It is Fitzwilliam now, Elizabeth. That is, unless you prefer my nickname."

Was she supposed to like it so much when he said her name? It was a common enough name; there were at least three other Elizabeths in Longbourn Village, and another four in Meryton. And yet, when he said it, she felt like the only one in the world. "I suppose it shall be Fitz and Fitzwilliam, then."

He extended his hand to shake, and she took it without thinking, only realising he had taken his glove off when she felt warm skin. At the same time, a spear of pain drove through her head, along with an icy cold wave like winter-lake water. The pain receded, but as soon as she thought it was manageable, it hit again full-force. Thus the cycle continued until she could form a coherent thought: _Ow_.

A voice throbbed through her head, as though bouncing off her skull and reverberating: **That hurt!**

She flinched at the sound, letting go of Fitzwilliam's hand. Instantly the pain muted a fraction, but not enough to reduce the headache that smashed at her ears and eyes from the inside of her skull. Her eyes locked onto Fitzwilliam's, both pairs wide and confused. The hubbub of fuss around them was reduced to a nervous buzz in their ears as they stared at each other in search of an answer.

It was Elizabeth's mystified thought that broke their stunned silence: _What… was that?_

 **I have no idea**. The voice slammed into her head painfully, but Fitzwilliam's lips did not move. **Can you hear me? I can hear you, yet you have said nothing**.

 _I can hear you_.

There was an almost audible click as the realisation struck them both like lightning. **Is our conversation a telepathic one?** Fitzwilliam wondered. **No one else appears to be able to hear us; besides, neither of us are actually moving our lips, and yet we can understand each other**.

 _It appears that it is_.

They fell silent. It was wonderful and terrible to be gifted with such a rare bonding mark; most mated couples could only impart emotions in varying levels of clarity, although very few, like them, were able to actually converse mentally. Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth's bonding mark, however, seemed to be not only empathic but telepathic.

But still their eyes had yet to match themselves. Elizabeth studied Fitzwilliam's eyes carefully, and his blue eye did not fade into his rich brown. It remained blue. _Why are our eyes not matching?_

A headache drummed on the inside of her skull, and the Bennet girl winced as her pain was multiplied and echoed by her soulmate's. "Forgive me," she murmured.

"No untoward harm done," Fitzwilliam replied, and she smiled at the slight modification to the brush-off. "In answer to your question, I think it has something to do with our… argument earlier last night." His hesitance to admit that they had been fighting was probably due to the large number of people that surrounded them.

The hubbub broke out anew as speculations rose concerning the outwardly-confusing reply that Fitzwilliam had given. The closest family members and friends of the pair simultaneously tried to ascertain the well-being of one or the other and ward off their neighbours. The mated pair themselves attempted to rein in the headache that was echoing between the two of them.

At last Jane and Bingley succeeded in getting through to her sister and his friend, respectively, convincing them to excuse themselves for a moment to compose themselves, and then go home. The Phillipses were to accompany Elizabeth back to Longbourn, while the Hursts volunteered in the case of Fitzwilliam.

Elizabeth felt a tap on her shoulder shortly before she was to leave with the Phillipses, and turned around to Fitzwilliam, who only smiled slightly, dropped a card and a bracelet in her hand, and disappeared.

It was not until she was safe in her room at Longbourn, with sufficient weapons against her headache, that she examined his parting gifts for the night.

The card read: _Talk to me if you feel well enough to do so_. ~F.D.

 _P.S. The bracelet is a little gift for you. I made it, long ago. It is nothing special, but I hope you at least like it._

Elizabeth took a look at the bracelet. Woven from cord, the bracelet was sturdy and strong and somehow the perfect size for her. She slipped it on and gazed absently at the green-and-gold slip of woven cord around her wrist. The make was a bit clumsy, but it was a gift – from a soulmate – and she did like it, very much. She smiled at the idea of a young Fitzwilliam struggling to thread the cords just so, and grinning in triumph when he had finally succeeded.

The headache had faded to more manageable levels, but as soon as she tried to reach out to him, it pulsed painfully once again and she was forced to lie back.

Before she relented and fell asleep, she thought one thing at Fitzwilliam: _Thank you_.

* * *

 **Hey!**

 **Wow, I must be blazing through these things. However, this'll be the last update for a while, maybe a few days, because Part 4 is still in the works and I have a trip planned for the weekend, so a short hiatus is in order.**

 **And this chapter is the one that starts containing the influences of _Walking Together_ and _Touch_ : the empathy/telepathy. Just as in WT, couple's bonds have varying levels of clarity and intensity; Darcy and Lizzy, as per every telepathy!soulmate AU ever, have an interestingly strong bond, though it obviously hurts. There'll be some modifications to history here, of course considering the soulmarks and all. **

**I hope you enjoyed this, and thank you for your encouraging reviews.**

 **~Alex**


	4. Part Four

**Hello again! So here's the part four I kind of rushed through to get posted. And here's a question for you all: How do you like the eye color switch?**

 **You see, most people assume that by 'dark', JA means 'brown'. And you'd probably be right, but I wanted to try something different from a blue-eyed Darcy and a brown-eyed Elizabeth. You might notice that every universe I have has a different eye color combination:**

 **ELS (MTMDF) Universe |** William: cerulean; Elizabeth: choolate brown

 **PPAAOR (the one with Edmund Bennet) Universe |** Darcy: blue; Elizabeth: dark green

 **His Reason For Pride (crossover) Universe |** Darcy: hazel; Elizabeth: emerald green

 **Eye Color!soulmate Alternate Universe *this one* |** Fitz: rich dark brown; Elizabeth: indigo blue

 **How do you like the switch so far? Oh, and enjoy! ~Alex**

* * *

Elizabeth awoke before sunrise the next morning, and she lay on her side of the bed that faced the window, watching the clump of trees in the distance where she knew the glow would start creeping. The headache was more manageable, and in addition to the cool air the lack of noise and bright light seemed to be helping.

Fitzwilliam's presence in the back of her mind was a very much conscious hum. Elizabeth tentatively reached out to him, and the pain actually receded a little more. _Are you awake?_

 **Sleep was difficult**. Then, seemingly at random, **I like to feel you sleep; even your dreams feel nice**.

 _My dreams?_

 **You were projecting**.

 _I was? Oh, forgive me. I had no intention of doing so_. Elizabeth felt a little embarrassed at the fact that a man she barely knew had been privy to her dreams, especially because she herself could not remember what she dreamt about. _What did you see?_

 **That is the strangest part. I watched it as though it were unfolding in front of me, but when you woke up it faded away as well, as though it were my dream and I had woken up. It is… quite the experience. I have always been able to remember my dreams**.

Elizabeth had an idea, and tossed it to Fitzwilliam so that he would know what she was doing. She scrambled out of bed and took out her diary, flipping to the page of last night and writing: I met my soulmate, and the telepathic bond formed; he is Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of all people! I have still not revoked my earlier opinion of him, as he has shown me no evidence to the contrary.

She wrote for today's date: Today F told me we shared a dream that neither of us can recall.

 **I have a confession to make** , Fitzwilliam thought suddenly.

 _What would that be?_

 **I dug around in the library during the night, as I could not sleep. I found quite a lot about soulmates. Apparently our eyes are still unmatched because we rejected each other; last night, at Lucas Lodge, it is most likely we both wished we had different soulmates or something of the sort, and that was what caused it**.

 _How can we reverse that?_ Elizabeth thought at him.

Confusion flickered at her from his side of the bond. **That is where everything gets confusing. The consensus is that the eyes match when both soulmates accept the bond and accept it wholeheartedly**.

 _That sounds perfectly straightforward_.

 **Yes, well… the blurry line is where wholeheartedly is concerned. There appears to be no agreement on what that means**.

 _Where did you get all this, anyway?_

 **Netherfield's library, as I said before. It is not as well-stocked as P – as I would like, but it is a library and not a room that just so happens to have books in it**.

 _Do you have a library, Fitzwilliam?_ Elizabeth wondered just how large the social gap between them was. Despite most soulmates marrying, there were still enough people who married outside of their bond – especially if they wanted biological children and their soulmate was the same sex, or if they felt too far above their soulmate – for her to know a couple or two who had done so.

Bemusement washed over her in an off-white, creamy wave. She stilled; had the colour been there before? Lingering at the edges of his transmission, the colour was most likely Fitzwilliam's. She put it away as he began thinking:

 **I do; I own an estate in Derbyshire. It is… I suppose, in certain terms, it could be seen as a sort of glorified Longbourn. I am still a gentleman farmer**.

Elizabeth was uncomfortable with the way he skirted around the subject, and asked another question: _How is your head, though? My headache seems to have faded almost completely_.

 **Much the same for me, thank you for asking**. Uncertainty – the soft, light grey of a precipice shrouded in mist – hovered at the edges of the thought, just as another slid through: **All I have is yours**. Elizabeth coloured as Fitzwilliam mentally yelped. **Don't look at that!**

 _You were projecting_ , she retorted. _It was no doing of mine_.

Upon reflection, perhaps the defensiveness of her tone was what set him off.

 **Unintentionally!** With a flash of rust-coloured anger he shut off his thoughts and threw her out of his mind. Elizabeth winced as pain stabbed behind her eyes, and scowled, though no one could see. When she reached out for him it was like coming up against a wall where an open door should be. She pushed at the wall, only for her head to throb again, and continue throbbing. Apparently his absence in her mind was causing her literal physical pain.

The wall morphed into a door again, and Fitzwilliam crept in, quietly, contritely. **Forgive me** , he thought. **I was unprepared for any unintentional projection I could do**.

Angered, Elizabeth caught him and threw him out, forcing the door into a wall again. How dare he act as though he could simply do that and come back and be forgiven? She would not be a meek little girl for him to order about as he pleased! Pulling her diary towards her once more, she scribbled fiercely: We learned how to shut each other out this morning as well, though it causes us pain.

Rust seeped around the wall, along with a painful echo: **Fine!**

She shot back, _Fine!_

Putting down her pen, Elizabeth laid her head in her hands. Were all soulmate bonds such work, or was it only because she was soulmates with Fitzwilliam Darcy? Fitzwilliam Darcy, whose match with her she was increasingly sure had been some kind of mistake.


End file.
